Truth Is I Was on the Road to Hell
by Letters to Ghosts
Summary: Rayna isn't the only one with a secret. (AU)
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: An odd idea I got while writing my latest fic. It's a little one-shot. (For now?) (I may get inspired.)_

* * *

Deacon knocked on the half-open door before he called out, "Ray?"

"Come on in."

He pushed it open and walked into the dressing room. Rayna was sitting in a plush velvet chair, the soles of her boots pressed against the edge of a coffee table. They'd been back on tour for one week, but they'd barely had time to see each other offstage.

"You're alone?" he asked. She never was. There was always someone needing something from her, whether Bucky or her publicist or a label guy or a hairdresser or a makeup artist or a costume designer or... take your pick.

"Not anymore," she quipped.

He smiled. "Do you _want_ to be alone?"

"No, and your timing is on point. Can you close the door?"

He executed, and took a seat in the chair next to hers.

"I've been wanting," she started, reaching for the large purse lying at her feet on the floor, "to show you this."

She pulled a few photographs out. The atmosphere shifted between them, like it did every time they talked about _it_ , her other life, her family life, the life she'd built with a man who wasn't him. A few years ago, when they were trying to work out the kinks of how to be in each other's lives without _being_ each other's lives, he'd sensed she'd been willing, yet cautious, to discuss it with him. He'd reassured her that she could, that she should.

"Her fourth birthday," she explained. He took the photos she was handing him and started to examine them carefully. He was aware she was staring. "In the middle of the party, she asked if she could sing for her friends, so we set up a little pretend stage."

"With a real sound system?" he teased, pointing at the mic Maddie was holding.

"It's a toy," she laughed, "but she said she didn't know what to do with her hands if she didn't hold something while singing."

He smiled. "Must be in her genes," he let it slip.

A second went by before they both realized what he'd just said.

"What?" she asked, unsettled. He didn't answer. _Shit._ "Deacon?"

His eyes were begging her to let it go. Why wouldn't she? Why would she want to destroy this delicate balance they had spent so long to reach?

"Ray," he murmured and what she heard was a _yes_ to the silent question she'd asked.

"How—" she choked. She felt incapable of forming a full sentence.

"I can do basic math," he deadpanned, although there was no real bitterness in his voice.

"Why—" she tried again, but it came out as nothing more than a strangled whisper. He waited for her to find the words. "Why did you pretend, all this time?"

"Because it was the right thing to do."

He couldn't have been sure, at first, of course. It was Rayna who'd achieved to convince him. Some time after his fifth stint in rehab, he'd received a call from her. She'd proposed they meet up to talk, she'd asked if he would like to meet Maddie. They'd settled for the park, a safe and neutral place. The minute he arrived, he just knew – he could read her like a book – but the minute he first saw Maddie, he also knew he would never say anything.

"Maddie deserved better than me back then. So did you."

"That's not true, you—"

"Ray," he cut her off. He didn't want some comforting lie. They were having the first real, honest-to-god conversation they'd had in years. He wanted the truth. "Ray, you felt the need to marry another man to protect her from me. This was when I knew I had finally fucked up beyond repair."

There was part of him which had always wondered if Rayna was aware he knew, if it had been some sort of unspoken agreement between them all along. Her genuine shock had now persuaded him she'd had no idea. She looked like her whole world had been turned upside down.

She was silent for a while before she breathed, "I didn't want it like this."

"I _know_ ," he assured her and this was when she eventually lost her fight against tears. He crouched down next to her, put a hand on her knee. "Hey." She gripped his fingers.

"Why don't you hate me?"

"This would imply you did something wrong. You were just protecting our little girl."

It didn't mean it hadn't been painful. Being around his daughter and not being allowed to be her dad. So damn painful at times, he'd thought more than once about putting an end to the situation. But his truck never made it to Rayna's house. He needed to stay sober. He needed to prove that he could. He needed to earn the right to be a father.

"Why don't _you_ hate me?" he asked.

She slid from the chair to the floor and they both sat down on the ground, her side against his.

"Because you're _you_ and we're _us_ and nothing you will or won't do could make me hate you."

 _What now?_ was hanging heavy around them, but he wasn't ready to articulate it yet. It sounded too consequential, too dangerous. Both their lives had just been upended by a simple slip of the tongue. He couldn't believe they'd made it four years without the truth coming out and this was how it had all happened.

She nestled against his shoulder, he kissed the top of her head.

"Babe," she said and he couldn't remember the last time she'd called him that. It sounded both odd and familiar. "What now?"

She'd always been the one to ask the tough questions.


	2. Chapter 2

Rayna kicked her boots off and threw her purse on the couch. She was too wired to sit down, too wired to do anything but pace the penthouse's wide living room.

She had no idea how she'd managed to get through the show, but she'd pulled it off. The thought was comforting, somehow. If she'd been able to pull it off tonight – of all nights – she would be able to anytime. Once backstage, she'd made as few stops as possible on her way to her dressing room. She'd collected her things in record time before she'd left for the hotel.

Teddy had called when she was still in the taxi. She hadn't dared to answer. She'd felt he would have guessed something was wrong the minute she would have opened her mouth. She'd always known she was a mediocre liar, but tonight had aknowledged that fact in the most spectacular fashion. Instead, she'd sent a text. _Stuck here for a while, will call tomorrow._ It sounded like something she could have written in a hurry in the middle of yet another conversation with yet another music executive at yet another afterparty.

The 20-minute drive from the arena had already given her too much time to turn the situation over in her head. She was starting to get angry at Deacon, she realized, and she couldn't help but laugh at the utter absurdity of it. _She_ was upset with _him_ for lying about the fact he knew she was... lying.

To keep mulling the situation over was pointless. She needed to talk it out. Now. She took a deep breath, put her boots back on and grabbed the hotel room card she'd thrown on the entrance dresser 15 minutes ago.

She was pressing the button to call the elevator when it occured to her she had, as a matter of fact, not the slightest idea what Deacon's room number was. She mumbled, cursing herself before heading back to her room. Once she'd rummaged through her purse in search of her phone, she called the only person she trusted to be discreet while looking for the information. Bucky called her back a moment later.

"Room 308. Ray, you're sure everything's alright?"

"I've got the situation under control," she reassured him, yet she spent the whole elevator ride down to the third floor second-guessing herself. Sleep on it might not have been the worst idea.

A few minutes and as many hesitations later, she found herself knocking on room 308. Maybe Deacon wouldn't be there. She didn't expect him to be at the afterparty, but maybe he'd gone for a walk to clear his thoughts. The door opened, signaling no such luck.

"Hey."

"Hey, I just wanted to..." She actually had no idea what she _just wanted to_.

Deacon came to her rescue. "Come on in," he offered, moving aside to let her walk past him.

Apart from a guitar case propped against the bottom edge of the bed and his worn-out messenger bag lying on a chair, Rayna wouldn't have guessed the room was occupied. She remembered their hotel rooms to be a lot messier back when they used to share one.

They stood a few safe feet away from each other, and Deacon slid his hands in his pockets, waiting for Rayna to start this conversation.

"How... What was your plan?"

"My plan?" He smiled, although more out of surprise than anything. "I don't think I had one."

"When were you planning to tell me?" she clarified.

"Do you mean, did I have some sort of reminder in my calendar? _August 9, tell Rayna I know about Maddie._ " He was aware derision was probably not his best option here, but it came as a reflex. Humour, he'd discovered, and especially of the self-mocking kind, had never come as handy as the first time he had to talk in front of an AA audience.

"Deacon," she pleaded.

He was tempted to throw the question back at her. When had _she_ planned to tell him? "I don't know," he said instead. "All I knew back then was that I needed to stay sober. Five times, Ray. The odds weren't in my favor."

"But you _did_ beat the odds." She looked away.

"Ray?"

"Cole said I should cut you loose, that it was the only way for you to get better. I spent every day of Maddie's first year torturing myself over that decision, and now it turns out it was—" Her voice failed her.

"Hey." He took a step closer to her. "I meant what I said earlier. I don't blame you." He squeezed her hand, and she gripped it, refusing to let it go. Her gaze shifted back to him. "You know, it's funny. Everyone says you're supposed to get sober for yourself, that it's the only way it will work. It's probably true, but it was never true for me. What kept me sober was Maddie. You. Knowing that if I could, maybe... It gave me a purpose. But I have no idea what would have happened, had you told me _then_. I wasn't ready to be a dad, Ray. That is the truth."

 _Are you ready to be one now_ , she almost asked, but she didn't need to.

It was more than time, they both knew it.

* * *

Almost two weeks had passed until Rayna's schedule had finally allowed her enough off-time to fly back to Nashville. Two weeks during which she and Deacon had done an impeccable job at avoiding each other. There was nothing more to be said, to be done, before she would have talked to Teddy anyway.

It was short past one when she let her bag drop on the entrance hall carpet of the house she'd been calling home for a little more than four years now. She renounced switching the lights on, not wanting to alert Teddy of her presence yet. She fumbled in the dark until she managed to make her way to the second floor. The faint glow of Maddie's night light was visible under her door, and Rayna headed its way.

She kneeled down next to her daughter's bed. "Sweetheart." She leaned to kiss her forehead. "Sweetheart," she tried a little louder.

Maddie raised heavy eyelids. She seemed disoriented for a few seconds before her face lit up. "Mom." She threw her arms around Rayna's neck.

"Hey, baby." Rayna moved to sit on the edge of the bed, pulling her daughter into her lap at the same time.

"You're back?"

"Only 'til tomorrow night."

"Why are you here?" Maddie asked, her head tipped to one side. Rayna tried to imagine what she would sound like explaining the situation to her. It was unconceivable. She wasn't sure how to put it into words herself, how could she even begin to explain it to her four-year-old daughter.

"I've been missing you, baby." Maddie smiled, seemingly satisfied with that answer. "I need you to go back to sleep now, but I promise we'll spend the whole day tomorrow together, alright?"

Her daughter nodded before slipping back under the covers. Rayna tucked her in, and kissed the crown of her head. On her way to her and Teddy's bedroom, she stopped, leaning back against the hallway wall. She closed her eyes and let herself slide down to the floor.

She didn't bother trying to hold back the tears anymore.


End file.
